


For Annie

by LovinJackson



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Missing Scene, Rage, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 14:17:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3981208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovinJackson/pseuds/LovinJackson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing Scene for 2.08 “All God’s Children” – Through his immense guilt and grief, Mitchell must find a reason to go on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Annie

**Author's Note:**

> So I am a little in love with Aiden Turner and through this I started to watch “Being Human” and fell equally in love with his character John Mitchell. He last 2 episodes of the second season in particular really spoke to me. My heart ached for him as I watched him unravel. I apologise already if this is way off base of out of character but this wouldn’t leave me alone until I got it out of my system hehe I didn’t get this beta’d so all mistakes are my own.  
> If you venture forward, I hope you enjoy.

Annie was gone.

He could feel it, deep in his heart. Her absence was like a black hole that continued to get bigger with each passing minute. It threatened to suck everything into it, destroying him from the inside out.

Mitchell sat in the passenger seat of the car, his hands were in his lap, tainted with blood. He couldn't stop the slight tremble coursing through them. His anger seethed like it had a life of its own and his grief … his grief was all consuming. His head rested against the glass of the window, smearing blood there too. But it wasn't his blood. None of it was his blood. How many people had he torn apart in such a short space of time?

He could still see the shock on the Coroners face as he plunged Daisy's knife into his chest. He could still remember the feeling as the man's blood rushed over his hand. The thrill of the kill igniting instinct in him that he had tried so hard to keep dormant. They called him a monster. He'd fought so hard to keep it together, to live under the radar, to keep the Vampires from killing, to protect innocent human lives. And in one fell swoop the very people he'd been trying to protect had destroyed everything. His friends had been blown to pieces. His head had been reeling after the massacre, not understanding what had happened.

Human beings would never accept them, and Mitchell found himself wondering why he bothered? Why had he been trying so hard to be like them? What did it matter? Innocent vampire lives had been slaughtered. And worse yet? He had been the one to gather his brothers and sisters all in one place. He had been the one to gain their trust after Herrick's death and for what? So they could be extinguished like vermin. They had been eradicated … and it was all his fault.

Rage coursed through his veins, causing him to swallow thickly. He could still taste the blood from his recent feeding frenzy. Closing his eyes, Mitchell saw the trainload of scared passengers that he had ripped apart with his bare hands and teeth. He'd ripped into them with relish, becoming the monster they'd accused him of being. He had enjoyed it. Their fear and blood had tasted devine and he had wanted more. His thirst was so strong. He'd felt the bloodlust in the past, before Josie had saved him, before George and Annie … "Fuck…" he grunted, squeezing his eyes shut. He pressed his forehead harder against the glass like he could force the memories out of his mind.

Annie was gone. Torn away from them so suddenly that her absence had left a gaping wound. He could still feel her overwhelming fear as she'd been dragged through the door to the other side. She hadn't wanted to go. He had felt that. Her painful screams would forever haunt him. He whimpered, shuddering against the cold. He was freezing now. Adrenaline of his hunt, the anxiety of trying to find his friend's had worn off now, leaving him with a hangover of massive proportions. He looked down at his shaking hands. Why wouldn't they stop bloody shaking? His green fingerless gloves were ruined. In fact they weren't even green now, more of a brown mixture between green and red. They were sticky and coppery smell was overpowering. For a moment the smell enticed him. It made him want more. That animalistic instinct returned. He'd been holding it at bay for so many years now that he'd almost forgotten what it felt like. The monster he truly was had reared its ugly head and Mitchell was floundering to stop it. He'd fallen off the wagon.

_Take my hand._

George's words from earlier in Kemp's compound floated through his mind. He'd been so angry. Kemp had deserved to die. But his friend's voice had been soft and Mitchell had been overtaken with grief and the need to tear into Kemp for destroying everything he had cared about.

Kemp had set him up. Lucy had been a trap. His heart ached. He allowed himself to care, allowed himself to trust. He'd put his heart out there only for it to be utterly betrayed in the worse possible way … with the death of his friends. He'd been so fucking stupid. He'd fallen right in. He'd jumped into bed with the enemy without even realising it. God, how could he be so fucking stupid? He'd lead them to the Vampires, by proxy he'd lead them to Nina and George too. Now Ivan was dead, Annie was gone and Mitchell had struggled to answer his friend's request to take his hand in that moment. Mitchell had stood there, fighting to breathe, fighting against the fact that didn't deserve the care in his friend's voice. George didn't know what he'd done. Not really. He hadn't seen the train. He hadn't seen the trail of bodies he'd left in Kemp's lair. He didn't deserve the earnest olive branch that his friend had been offering him. But … he needed it so badly. George was all he had left and he was drowning down a river of blood and darkness that he didn't think he could come back from.

Mitchell tore off the fingerless gloves and rubbed at his hands. The blood had dried for the most part, stuck there like a reminder. It branded him the murderer he knew he was. Annie would have been so disappointed.

Mitchell's eyes filled with tears. Betraying him almost instantly, tears overflowed and ran down his blood-caked cheeks. He was a mess. But unlike an alcoholic who fell off the wagon? His rage-crazed slip back into the murderous monster within had cost countless people their lives, not all of them guilty of anything other than being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Outside the confines of the car – a car that he was pretty sure George had stolen in their escape – sat the pink building he'd called home for the last few years. It was the home that Annie had died in. It was also the home that Annie had started to live again in after her untimely demise. They had created an unlikely family between the three of them. Mitchell, George and Annie. A Vampire, a Werewolf and a Ghost. A hundred years earlier he would have never believed that it was possible for a Vampire and a Werewolf to co-exist, let alone become best friends. And Ghosts? That was something that had caught him as equally by surprise.

Here he was sitting outside the house that held everything that was dear to him and yet he couldn't go inside. He hadn't been able to leave the car, leaving George and Nina the job of quickly packing what little things they could before they left.

They couldn't stay here. Too much had happened. Kemp and his other human cronies could still be after them,  _would_  still be after them. But that wasn't the reason Mitchell couldn't stay, that wasn't the reason Mitchell couldn't bring himself to walk in that door.

It wasn't a home without Annie and Annie was gone because of him. He hadn't been able to save her. He'd been too fucking late.

His guilt ate at him. He reached up and combed his fingers through his tangled dark curls, a pathetic sound of torment escaping his mouth as he rested his head against the glass once more.

The sound of the front door opening and shutting was followed by rushed footsteps. The boot of the car was opened and something dumped inside, bags most likely. Mitchell felt himself tense as the car doors were opened. George slid into the driver's seat and Nina into the back. Mitchell didn't move to look at either of them. He couldn't. He was stuck, his memories raging in his head on repeat.

George started the car and then paused. Without even looking Mitchell knew that he was being watched.

"Are you okay?" George asked, his voice full of concern.

Mitchell almost scoffed. He didn't know how to answer. Lucy had betrayed him, Annie was gone and Ivan and the others were all dead and now here they were fleeing their home. No he was not okay. He needed a drink. He could feel that thirst grab at him, causing him to swallow convulsively.

"J-Just drive, George." His own voice surprised him as he spoke. It was ragged and deep and spent.

George didn't react straight away. The interior of the car fell into an uneasy silence. The weight of what had happened was thick and heavy.

"It'll … It'll be alright," George said, his voice determined.

Nina sighed from the backseat. "Just drive, George," she echoed Mitchell's request.

"It'll be alright," George repeated quietly, sounding very much like he was trying to convince himself this time.

George resituated himself in the seat causing the leather to creak under his weight. He put the car into drive and pulled away from the house. Mitchell watched from the side mirror as their house got further and further away. That house. So many memories floated through those rooms. Laughter, friends … family … and slowly it all unravelled into something out of a damn horror movie.

_It'll be alright._

Mitchell bit down on his bottom lip as he curled in on himself. It was all ruined. There was so much death and most of it by his hand. How could he ever come back from that? How could he ever atone? How could he ever forgive himself for not getting there in time to save Annie? All was lost.

George cleared his throat and leaned forward, flipping on the radio. Music filled the car but Mitchell didn't hear it. He glanced to his right, looking at his friend for the first time since he'd dragged him away from Kemp. George had stopped him from taking the one life that had deserved it. George had stopped him, had woken him from his rage. George was still here. He wasn't alone. Mitchell allowed himself to take a second to be grateful that  _not_  all was lost. He still had George and George still had Nina.

All they had was each other now. Annie would want them to stick together, to protect each other. He owed it to her to try.

As the car raced through the night, Mitchell made a silent vow. He would protect what was left of his small family.

For Annie.

**The End.**

**Author's Note:**

> So … I hope that wasn’t completely horrible lol If you read, I hope you enjoyed. Certainly feel free to tell me what you thought. Have a wonderful weekend :)


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